


let us dance, and let us laugh

by Gee_Writes



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Ballet, Dancer AU, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-28
Updated: 2014-09-28
Packaged: 2018-02-19 03:15:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2372510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gee_Writes/pseuds/Gee_Writes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A boy spun in silver, sunlight refracting off of him – a vision of grace, leg vertical, foot pointed above his head.<br/>It was a different world.  One of tradition and classical music, of pointe shoes and foot positioning.</p><p>A world of overwhelming intimidation.</p><p>[A KiruGon Dancer AU]</p>
            </blockquote>





	let us dance, and let us laugh

He'd wandered in; the largest dance studio in the country, one of the most prestigious in the world. Large windows and old stone, marble floors echoing footsteps. The tinkling treble of pianos drifting out into the halls – heavy wood doors, ajar.

It was a different world. One of tradition and classical music, of pointe shoes and foot positioning.

The advertised themselves as welcoming all sorts of dance; from tap to samba – but here in the open halls it was obvious. Obvious the marble had never echoed anything other than an orchestral set – anything that Gon liked to dance to.

He wasn't trained, barely knew what being trained in dance _meant_ – just let himself feel it, didn't need lessons or instructors. And he had thought, coming here, that maybe he'd meet someone like him. Who felt the music like he did. He'd left his little island home for it, and so far, he still had hope he'd find it.

Despite the overwhelming air of intimidation.

All he was looking for now, though, was an empty room. The farther in he ventured, it was becoming much more apparent that maybe, _maybe_ he was a little out of his depth. Jump-landings, the tinny replay of a CD player, laboured panting.

Soon enough, he found himself at the end of that endless hallway. Double doors, silence permiating from inside – perhaps a place to dance, finally. Find the rhythm, the flow.

The moment he pushed the heavy door though, he was struck. A boy spun in silver, sunlight refracting off of him – a vision of grace, leg vetical, foot pointed above his head. Dressed in black and contrasted against the bright windows. Serene face, eyes closed in concentration as his hand reached to his worn pointe shoes, reflection replicating his every movement back in the mirror on the wall.

Pale face, milky like the moon – features fine, delicate. A crease in the boy's brow as the stretch continued; large eyes opening, sapphire blue shining before realising he had an unwarranted audience. Mouth quirked when Gon stayed silent.

“You know, usually people have to pay to see me dance.”

“You weren't dancing.” _But I can only imagine._

“But you planned on staying if I did, didn't you?” not angry, more amused with the stranger than anything.

Sheepish, he smiled back – saw the slight surprise before being followed by a larger smirk.

“Yeah, I thought I might.”

 

* * *

 

He moved as if he was flying, cutting through the air; flowing, arms more fluid than water.

Speakers thrummed with bass, recorded strings painting a story in the open room. But the way he danced; the way he seemed to perfectly embody each note, each silence, each change of instrument – it was like he'd discovered the true purpose for the human body.

His legs itched to join him; this beautiful stranger made of music and muscle. Whom hadn't taken even a breath out of time. The stark black of his leotard, striking against his marble features – a likeness in both colour and hardness – gave weight to his poise. Even though it wasn't what Gon would normally dance to, he yearned to join. To enter the vision before him. Because, for as beautiful as the boy smithed from starlight was, he looked incredibly sad.

Incredibly lonely.

And then all at once, it was quiet; the tune fading to pianissimo and the dancer smoothing, slowing in response. A final swoop of the strings, and a single wavering flute. The lithe dancer finished with the song; other leg up now and bent, opposite arm raised.

Gon didn't know whether to clap or stay silent, enthralled by the steady inhale, exhale of the other boy's breathing. A single drop of sweat, falling from his hairline, the only indication of the preformance just ended. His eyes were open, bluer than cornflowers and focused on some far-away point. Backlit by the morning sun, he glowed; and Gon couldn't help but be awestruck.

“You're beautiful.”

He got a sharp laugh at that, a little disbelieving. “I should hope so; I practice enough.”

“Oh; your dancing too!”

It was a moment as the silence stretched, the other boy uncomprehending the words initially. But once he did, the furiousity of the blush he got in response bloomed like a rose, bright red. Hand coming to his face, palm smothering. Nervous laughter bubbled up – Gon joining in, rubbing the back of his head and looking down to his shoes, sheepish. Not sure why he had said what he did; but happy he had, all the same. Had always been told he was too blunt, no filter – and they _maybe_ had a point.

“You're a weird guy, huh? What's your name?”

“Gon! Um, Gon Freecs. And you?” From the look that got, Gon thought that might have been a stupid question; but he got a shrug and an answer all the same.

“Killua Zoldyck, premier danseur and family prodigy. The next Aksyonov, my parents hope.” All Gon could supply were blank looks, suddenly a lot more aware of this world – his lack of knowledge of this world.

Knew whatever it meant, it was impressive.

“And now _you_ , Gon, owe me a dance.”

 

* * *

 

Heavy drum beats, steady, strong.

Low to the floor, barefoot and knees bent – a natural feeling, one that made him feel tapped into the pulse of the Earth. Energy entering through the soles of his feet. He was lost in the rhythm; with his eyes closed it was just the music and himself. The only two things that mattered in the now, in this space. As he continued to move though, the awareness of a sharp stare following him itched his skin. Knew those bright blue eyes were focused on his every move – made him aware, self-concious. And it was immersed in thoughts of those midsummer blues that the music stopped, caught him off guard. Opened his eyes to a contemplative look on the other dancer.

“You move well,” head nodding as he sat. “I bet you could be great with some training; you're certainly flexible enough,” a flicker of his eyes to his hips, then back to his face. “You should try ballet.”

Gon could only laugh at that, setting himself down beside Killua. “I dunno if I'd really suit ballet.”

“You'd be surprised,” peeling off the satin shoes; feet covered in worn-open sores, bleeding. Gon traced old scars with his eyes across the beaten feet, saw the blood-sticky back seam of the discarded shoes. Watched as slim fingers unbound tape, pulling on sensitive skin. Flinched at the little hiss the other boy gave when he carefully stretched his toes from their crippled curl.

Contemplative stare inspected the tattered fabric at the end of the toebox, a displeased _tch_ at the state of the shank. A murmured “damn; and they were just getting comfortable, too. This is the third pair.”

“In how long?” Genuinely curious.

“Six days. Usually I can stretch them to three or four each, but these barely lasted a day and a half,” an exasperated sigh, punctuated with a shrug, “I guess you get what you pay for.”

“Does it hurt?”

“Huh?” Head snapping to look at Gon; one eyebrow raised.

“Does it hurt to dance?”

“Oh, uh. Not really... or more, I don't really feel it anymore, I guess.” The white-haired boy looking at his own feet, and then to Gon's. A stark difference. “I've been dancing since I was two, after all,” smile more pained than Gon thought was necessary.

“Well, you do dance beautifully, Killua. Better than I've ever seen before.”

“You're not half-bad yourself; considering.” Grin cheeky and crinkled skin at his eyes.

“Considering what?”

“You came to this studio, not even knowing who funds it; or why.” Arms stretching above his head, fingers interlocked. Popping his shoulder joints, head lolling right to left.

“Well, that stuff doesn't really matter, does it? I just want to dance, after all.”

He got another blank look at that, blue eyes growing wide until they seemed to catch the light. Suddenly Killua was laughing – a real laugh; not a half-smirk, or hinted with breath. A laugh that bent him over and had his arms wrapping 'round his middle; one that just left Gon sat mutely – watching the calm, _beautiful_ boy break façade in the most enchanting way. Saw the tears being discreetly wiped at, mouth still smiling.

“Yeah, Gon, you're right. I guess it doesn't really matter.”

 

* * *

 

“Do you dance everyday?”

They were walking down that echoing hall – past the ajar doors and jump-landings, heavy panting and tinkling piano. Their steps were in time, both barefoot against the cool marble. Killua stopped at a drinking fountain, filling his water bottle with the shakey stream as he cast his eyes up in thought.

“Almost... I take a day or two off after a show's run has ended; but get started prepping for the next one pretty much right away. I don't mind it though, I don't have much else to do anyways,” shrugging as he replaced the cap on the filled bottle. “How about you? You dance everyday?”

“I try to. It's my favourite thing to do, after all. I couldn't imagine not.” Watching dancers, all ages, filter into the hallways – the morning sun long gone, bright hanging lights replacing the daylight. Hadn't realised how quickly the time had passed.

“Would you mind dancing here?” voice smaller than Gon had heard from the ballet dancer, eyes averted. “Y'know. At this studio.”

“Of course I want to! This place is amazing!” voice raised, hoping to impress his point to his new friend. “But,” voice back to its normal volume, “like you saw before... I'm not exactly a ballerina.”

“You don't have to be! It really isn't _just_ ballet here, I promise.” Pale hand grabbing at his arm. “You can dance any way you want.” Blue-eyed boy drawing back once he'd realised he'd been clutching the dark arm; quiet embarrassment thickening the atmosphere. “And I'm... I have a personal bit I'm working on.”

“Oh, wow, Killua! That's amazing,” He took the off-second break to make sure to catch the other's eye, “but I... I don't know what it has to do with me?”

Pale cheeks coloured dark again, more red than pink; eyes turning down to focus on his index finger picking at dried skin on his thumb.

“Would you dance with me, Gon?” whisper nearly lost in the noise of people leaving, people saying goodbyes and good works. “Be my partner?”

…

He'd wandered in; the largest dance studio in the country, one of the most prestigious in the world. Large windows and old stone, marble floors echoing footsteps. The tinkling treble of pianos long gone now that the dancers were retreating home – heavy wood doors, open.

It was a different world. One of tradition and classical music, of pointe shoes and foot positioning.

One that didn't seem so intimidating, with Killua looking at him like that.

**Author's Note:**

> Really? Another AU? I'm sorry, everyone. Please forgive me.
> 
> Unlike the last one though, this is all of it. I'm not planning on anything more for this.  
> I hope some of you enjoyed it anyway, despite that.
> 
> Huge thanks to [wartransmission](http://archiveofourown.org/users/wartransmission), whom, as usual, has been a wonderful friend and encouragement.
> 
> If you want to leave me a message, or just chat HxH, my tumblr is compulsive-bibliotaph.tumblr.com


End file.
